


nothing is safer than the sound of you reading out loud to me

by oftirnanog



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftirnanog/pseuds/oftirnanog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You gotta get up early you should go back to bed,” Ronan mumbles.</p><p>“Fuck off, Lynch,” Adam says, standing and filling the cup by the sink with water. “I’m not about to leave you all pathetic and sick on the bathroom floor.” He tries to keep his tone light, but he knows Ronan will hear the concern bleeding into his voice. </p><p>---</p><p>Ronan has the stomach flu. Adam takes care of him. Opal helps, kind of. Blue and Gansey also offer advice.</p><p>Or, that time I was sick and wrote a really self-indulgent fic of Adam taking care of Ronan because I have no self control and was feeling pathetically alone in my illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing is safer than the sound of you reading out loud to me

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you weren't sure that domesticity and sickfic were my ultimate weakness, here's this. Also, it was supposed to be short and ended up being over 3000 words? See again: no self control. Fair warning, Ronan pukes a lot in this, if that's like, a thing you want to avoid. 
> 
> I have no idea where this would fit on a timeline of their relationship? Early enough that Opal is still protective of Ronan even around Adam. Late enough that Adam has made a habit of staying at the Barns. You decide.
> 
> Aside: Would Adam call Ronan 'babe'? I'm still not sure, but at one point in this he does.
> 
> *Title from Rupi Kaur's "milk and honey"

Adam jerks awake to the sound of his name, high and insistent, and finds Opal next to the bed, eyes wide with something that looks like fear. He sits up, suddenly alert, and reaches beside him to shake Ronan awake only to find the other half of the bed empty. His heart drops into his stomach.

“Kerah,” Opal says, quiet, and tugs on Adam’s hand.

“What’s wrong? Where is he?” Adam asks, jumping out of bed to follow her. His pulse is slamming through his body, mind racing with different nightmare possibilities, so it’s somewhat of a relief when Opal stops outside the bathroom and Adam is met with the unmistakable sound of retching. Adam takes a moment to be relieved before making a sharp U-turn back into concerned.

“Go back to bed,” he says to Opal, tousling her hair in a way he hopes is reassuring. “I got this.”

She frowns up at him and throws a look at the mostly closed bathroom door.

“He’ll be okay,” he tells her. “He’s just sick.”

Opal still looks unsure and gives Adam an appraising look, like she’s deciding if he’s to be trusted. It would be amusing if Adam weren’t so anxious to check on Ronan. “Okay,” she says finally, and drops a kiss on the back of Adam’s hand before making her way back down the hall to her room.

Adam sighs and enters the bathroom. Ronan is hunched over the toilet, back heaving. Adam winces and says, “Ronan?”

Ronan turns his head enough to look at Adam, resting his cheek on the toilet seat. He’s much paler than usual and his eyes are puffy with exhaustion. There’s sweat beading on his forehead and the back of his neck. When Adam gets closer, he sees that his tank top is soaked through. He reaches down to rest a hand on Ronan’s forehead and finds that he’s much too warm.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Ronan says. His voice is shaky and he takes a steadying breath through his nose, jaw clenched, before turning his face back into the toilet and retching again. Adam rubs a hand down Ronan’s back, trying to soothe him through the worst of it, though it’s horribly inadequate. Ronan spits and then groans, sitting back a bit and resuming his former position with his cheek pressed into the toilet seat. 

Adam takes it upon himself to flush the toilet before crouching down next to Ronan, resting his hand on the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb in slow circles over his skin. “You _should’ve_ woken me,” Adam says. “And you didn’t. Opal did.”

“Shit,” Ronan says. “How is she?”

“She’s fine,” he says. “She went back to bed.”

Ronan swallows and nods.

“Think you can keep down some Tylenol? You’re burning up,” Adam says.

Ronan shrugs, or twitches his shoulder in what Adam assumes is a shrug.

“What about coming back to bed?”

Ronan makes a noise of protest. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” Adam says. He lets his thumb rub another circle into the skin behind Ronan’s ear. “I’m going to grab you another shirt, okay?”

“You gotta get up early you should go back to bed,” Ronan mumbles.

“Fuck off, Lynch,” Adam says, standing and filling the cup by the sink with water. “I’m not about to leave you all pathetic and sick on the bathroom floor.” He tries to keep his tone light, but he knows Ronan will hear the concern bleeding into his voice. 

Adam hands Ronan the cup, but he shakes his head.

“Not to drink. Just rinse,” Adam says.

Ronan glares at him, but it’s lacking all its usual force. He takes the cup.

“I’ll be right back.”

Adam hurries back to their bedroom and riffles through the dresser drawers until he finds one of Ronan’s softest t-shirts. Then he doubles back on his way out to grab a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms so that Ronan has something warmer than his boxers. When he gets back to the bathroom, Ronan has shifted so that he’s sitting against the wall, head leaning back and eyes closed.

“Ready to come back to bed?” Adam asks.

Ronan opens his eyes and gives Adam a defeated look, which is a testament to how sick he is, and then nods. 

“Okay,” Adam says. “Let’s get you into fresh clothes first.”

He reaches his hands down and Ronan grabs hold, letting Adam haul him to his feet. Adam pulls Ronan’s tank over his head and he complies with surprising ease. His whole body is radiating heat. 

“Always trying to get me naked,” Ronan says.

Adam arches an eyebrow at him and hands him the t-shirt. Ronan gets his arms through and then struggles with getting it over his head. Adam tugs the shirt down and over Ronan’s head, trying not to laugh at his current ineptitude. 

“I can dress myself you know,” Ronan says when Adam bends and holds the pyjamas out for him to step into.

“Clearly,” Adam replies. 

Ronan sighs and lets Adam pull the pants up his legs and over his hips. Then Adam grabs Tylenol and more water and hands them to Ronan. Ronan makes a face that says very clearly, _Are you fucking serious?_ Adam replies with raised eyebrows that say very clearly, _Yes I am and you’re not getting out of it._ Ronan stares him down, but relents almost immediately, taking the smallest sip of water possible to swallow the pills. Adam sets the cup back on the counter.

“I feel like shit,” Ronan says.

“You look like shit,” Adam confirms.

“Asshole,” Ronan says, but he leans on Adam for support as they make their way back to the bedroom.

Ronan climbs into the bed and tugs the covers up over himself, curling into a ball. He burrows into the pillows, shivering. Adam isn’t sure what the protocol is here. Whether loading another blanket on him is going to make the fever worse. He hesitates for about three seconds before Ronan’s comfort wins out. Adam can’t bring himself to let him shiver all night, so he grabs another comforter from the hall closet and lays it over Ronan, who immediately pulls it up to his chin. Something tugs in Adam’s chest. He pulls his own t-shirt off, knowing he’ll be absorbing all of Ronan’s excess heat, and crawls into bed next to him, curling himself along Ronan’s back close enough to lay a hand on his hip but not crowd him. He lets his nose rest against the base of Ronan’s skull though, another point of reassuring contact. Ronan is already falling asleep. Adam presses a gentle ghosting kiss on the back of Ronan’s neck and shuts his eyes. 

 

Adam gets up with the alarm to call in sick to work and check in on Opal. Ronan is still sleeping soundly, so Adam leaves him after pressing a gentle hand to his forehead. His fever has gone down, but he’s still warmer than he should be. 

When he pokes his head into Opal’s room he finds her lying in bed, awake with her eyes wide open. Adam huffs a laugh because that never happens. Normally if she’s up before them she lets them know it.

“Kerah?” Opal asks.

“He’s still asleep,” Adam tells her. “He’s getting better though. You want some breakfast? I’ll make pancakes.”

Opal nods and climbs carefully out of bed, moving slowly so that her hooves don’t make too much noise on the floor. She takes Adam’s hand and they head to the kitchen. 

Adam makes her pancakes with blueberries and lets her smear melted chocolate chips all over them and then douse them in whipped cream. He figures it has to be better than tree bark. He eats his own with syrup and a small dollop of whipped cream that Opal stares at with more disdain than Adam has ever seen on a child. He bursts out laughing and Opal scowls, which only serves to make him laugh harder even as he feels bad about it.

“When is Kerah getting up?” she asks, still with a frown on her face, and in an accusing tone that suggests she’d prefer Ronan’s company just now.

“When he feels better,” Adam says. He swallows a mouthful of pancake and asks, “You want some orange juice?”

Opal sits up a little straighter and nods enthusiastically, so Adam gets them each a glass. Chainsaw soars over to them and lands next to Opal’s plate. Opal pushes some of her pancake towards the edge of the plate and Chainsaw snatches it up. Opal says something to her in the dream language that no one else can understand and Chainsaw cocks her head one way, then the other, before cawing and snatching more food from the plate. Opal giggles.

When they’re finished, Adam clears their plates and says, “Why don’t you go play outside for a bit? I’m going to check on Ronan.”

Opal nods seriously and then scampers out the front door with Chainsaw flapping out behind her. 

At first he thinks Ronan is still sleeping, but he rolls over at the sound of the door opening and says, in a voice that sounds like slicing through gravel, “Parrish.”

Adam sits next to him on the edge of the bed and presses his hand to Ronan’s forehead. He’s much too warm again. Adam frowns. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fucking terrible,” Ronan says.

“Yeah,” Adam agrees, rubbing his hand over Ronan’s buzzed head. “You’re running a fever again.”

“Goody.”

“I’ll be right back.” Adam gets up and fetches a cup of water and Tylenol from the bathroom. 

“Here,” he says to Ronan, handing them off once Ronan’s managed to get himself mostly upright.

Just like the night before he takes the smallest sip of water possible to swallow the pills and hands the cup back to Adam. Adam takes it and puts it on the bedside table. “You should drink some more of that eventually,” Adam says. He doesn’t want Ronan to get dehydrated. Ronan gives him an incredulous look.

“So I can puke it back up again?” he asks. “No thanks.”

“You need fluids.”

“I’ve had the flu before thanks, I’ll live.” He stares stubbornly at Adam, though his greyish pallor and the bags under his eyes rather lessen the effect. Adam frowns at him and something in Ronan’s expression softens. He reaches for Adam’s hand. “Seriously, Adam, it sucks, but I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Adam says. “Just don’t like seeing you like this.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Guess you don’t want anything to eat, then?”

Ronan groans in disgust and turns his face into the pillow. Adam chuckles a bit at that.

“Promise me you’ll at least try to drink some of the water? Even if it’s just one tiny sip every hour?”

Ronan rolls his eyes, but squeezes Adam’s hand. “Fine.”

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be downstairs.”

An hour later Adam is drawn upstairs again by the sound of Ronan’s heavy footsteps and the slamming of a door. Sure enough, when he gets upstairs Ronan is puking again. Dry heaving might be the more accurate term, since he doesn’t have much left in his stomach, but whatever they’re calling it, Adam is officially worried. 

“Fuck,” Ronan says, his voice echoing off the inside of the toilet bowl. 

“Jesus,” Adam says. He lowers himself to sit next to Ronan and rubs his hand over his back. His t-shirt is damp again. Ronan leans incrementally into Adam’s touch and Adam’s entire being screams with the need to make him better. But there’s really nothing he can do except wait it out and keep rubbing circles into Ronan’s back when he heaves again. 

“Oh Jesus make it stop,” Ronan says and Adam wants to hit something. He has no idea what to do. All he knows is that Ronan needs fluids and that they need to keep his fever down. He has no idea how to go about doing that. 

“You okay if I go grab you a fresh shirt?” Adam asks.

Ronan nods, but keeps his face over the toilet. He retches again as Adam is leaving and he almost turns back, but decides that grabbing a new shirt is at least _doing_ something. While he’s in the bedroom he also takes a moment to call Gansey.

“Adam!” Gansey says delightedly. 

“Hey Gansey.”

“How are things?”

“Ronan’s sick,” Adam says, getting right to the point. He doesn’t want to leave Ronan alone too long. “He can’t keep anything down and he’s running a fever and I’m sure it’s just a stomach bug, but I don’t want him to get dehydrated.”

“Is he that bad?” Gansey asks, and Adam knows he means bad enough that Adam decided to call Gansey for help.

_“Who’s that?”_ Adam hears Blue ask in the background.

“It’s Adam,” Gansey tells her. “Ronan’s sick. Sorry, Adam.”

“It’s fine, just tell me what I should do.”

He hears Blue and Gansey talking again, too low for him to make anything out, and then a brief scuffle.

“Adam?” says Blue.

“Hey Blue.”

“Get him to suck on some ice cubes to stay hydrated,” she says. “It won’t be too much on his stomach all at once, so he should be able to keep it down. Also, run a cloth under cold water and keep it on his neck or his forehead.”

“Ice cubes. Cold cloth. Got it,” Adam says.

“We can come over later with some ginger tea? Or soup? Or even just to watch Opal for a bit if you need,” Blue offers.

“Thanks,” Adam says, smiling. “But I think Ronan might kill me for allowing other people to see him in his weakened, infirm state.”

Blue laughs and Adam smiles wider. “Fair enough. Just promise to call if you need anything else.”

“I will. Thanks, Blue.”

“Good luck.”

Ronan is still hanging over the toilet when he gets back. Adam sets the fresh shirt on the counter and runs a washcloth under the water. He wrings it out, folds it the best he can, and then lays it across the back of Ronan’s neck. He makes an appreciative noise, but doesn’t give any indication of moving away from the toilet.

“You movin’ in here?” Adam asks, hand on the back of Ronan’s head.

Ronan grunts in response. 

“That’s not really an answer, babe.”

Ronan tilts his head so he can look at Adam and it’s a look of such helpless exhaustion that Adam almost relents and lets him stay on the bathroom floor. 

“Please just get in bed,” Adam says. “I won’t force anymore water on you, but you should get some more sleep.”

“Yeah,” Ronan agrees. 

“You want that fresh shirt?” Adam asks.

“I’m just going to sweat through it,” Ronan says.

“So then I’ll get you another one after that.”

“Okay.”

Adam grabs the shirt and sits down to get Ronan out of his damp one. Before helping him into the fresh one he takes the cloth from Ronan’s neck and wipes down his chest and shoulders. Ronan doesn’t even put up a token protest, just lets Adam run the cloth over his body, and it makes Adam’s chest ache. 

“You’re quite a mess, aren’t you?” Adam says, his other hand coming up to rest on the back of Ronan’s neck.

Ronan sighs and leans forward so that his head rests against Adam’s chest. Adam presses his lips to Ronan’s head. He smells like stale sweat. 

“C’mon let’s get you into this shirt,” Adam says, gently pushing Ronan back to make space between them. 

He’s just gotten Ronan on his feet when Opal’s small voice calls, “Adam?”

She peeks her head into the bathroom and sees Ronan. “Kerah?”

“Hey, brat,” he says. 

Opal frowns at him and then comes in and takes his hand. Adam wraps his arm around Ronan’s waist and he and Opal lead Ronan to the bedroom. 

Ronan immediately collapses onto the bed and Opal scrambles in beside him. Adam smiles at the way Opal rests her head softly on Ronan’s shoulder. He should probably be worried about Opal catching whatever Ronan has, but he’s not even sure she can catch regular illnesses and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her to leave the room, so instead Adam settles in beside Opal. He grabs his book off the nightstand. Ronan throws him a glance.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Reading,” Adam says.

“You don’t have to stay in here.”

Adam just shrugs. “I can read just as well here as downstairs.”

“Whatever,” Ronan says, but Adam can see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Sleep,” Adam says.

“Sleep,” Opal echoes, and pets her hand down Ronan’s forearm.

“Hmph,” Ronan says. “Bossy.” 

“Adam, read _Alice in Wonderland_ ,” Opal says.

“Yeah, Adam,” Ronan agrees. “Read _Alice in Wonderland_.”

“Now who’s bossy?” Adam says. Then to Opal, “It’s in your room. Go get it.”

Opal shimmies down the bed to jump off the end and scampers to her room. Adam can feel Ronan watching him, so he looks over. There’s a look of almost wonderment on his face. He reaches over to grab Adam’s hand and presses a kiss to his palm. For some reason, Adam takes this moment to remember what Blue said about the ice cubes. He gives Ronan’s hand a squeeze and then gets off the bed. Ronan gives him a questioning look.

“I’m going to get some ice cubes,” he explains. “Blue said you should be able to suck on those to stay hydrated. They’ll be easy on your stomach.”

Ronan arches an eyebrow and it’s almost up to its usual standard. “You called Blue?”

“Gansey, actually.”

Ronan gives him a knowing look and a small nod. “Ice cubes sound good.”

Adam ducks his head and goes to leave the room.

“Hey, Adam?” Ronan says. He still sounds exhausted. 

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” he says. “For being here.”

Adam shrugs. “Where else would I be?”

It’s Ronan’s turn to shrug. Adam holds his gaze for a moment longer and then goes to get the ice. When he gets back, Opal is settled back into her spot next to Ronan with an old hardback copy of _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_. Ronan is still awake, in that restless way of the ill, and he takes the cup of ice from Adam almost gratefully, tentatively sliding a piece in his mouth. It’s then Adam realizes that for all his protests against the water, Ronan must be thirsty. 

“Me too!” Opal insists, making a grab for the ice. Ronan rolls his eyes, but holds the cup out to her anyway, letting her dig through with her fingers until she finds a piece she deems acceptable. Ronan snorts when she crunches down on it.

And then Adam opens the book to where they left off and starts reading, keeping his voice pitched low, with Opal pressed up against his shoulder to see the pictures that are scattered throughout. When Ronan and Opal drift to sleep, Adam shuts the book and lets himself drift with them.


End file.
